


The Learning of Detective Skills

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Close Quarters, F/M, Hugh Collins sleuthing, bedside detecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10400169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: When they caught a murderer, Hugh Collins was the one who took the brunt of the attack. Now, as he has visitors to his sickroom, he decides to practice his sleuthing abilities on them.





	

”Hugh Collins! Don’t you dare make me that afraid ever again!” 

In through the doors to the sickroom stormed an agitated Phryne Fisher, with pursed lips and a worried expression on her face. 

“What were you thinking! You could have…” Phryne couldn’t even finish the sentence, so difficult was it for her to contemplate anything befalling the young innocent Hugh.

Hugh blushed from her sincerity and the fuss she made over him. Even though he’d known her for a rather long time now, he still felt awestruck in her company. 

Phryne came to his bedside and put a hand on his forearm, or well, the bandage covering his forearm. He had taken some real beating and a blow from a knife before the murderer had been apprehended. Phryne sat down by his side and touched his forehead to feel for fever, ending the caress with a pat on his cheek that made him flush even redder. 

“I mean it, Hugh.”

He nodded.

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” he answered, blinking back his emotion.

“Oh, and Jack, you should know better too,” Phryne said without even looking over her shoulder.

“Duly noted, Miss Fisher,” came a deep voice from the other bed in the room.

The two policemen were sharing a room at the hospital and would probably have to stay there for the coming few days. Or rather: Jack would probably only need a few days, whereas Hugh might need to stay longer. Being the faster and the least experienced of the two, he had taken the main brunt of the attack. The result was a broken arm, a knife wound in the chest – scarily close to being lethal – and more bruises than he had had in all his life. Jack had managed to restrain the infamous Yarra murderer and handcuff him, but not before the man had stabbed him too, a deep flesh wound in his upper arm. 

To lie in the sickbed was the dullest thing Hugh could imagine. As a child he had loathed not being able to run around, and as an adult he felt much the same way. But he was determined to use this time to become a better detective. Confined to the bed and the room, he decided to try to suss everything out that he saw or heard. 

There weren’t much to choose between, so he had to start with the people at hand: What did the sound of Inspector Robinson’s voice tell him? That tone of matter-of-fact with a hint of… something. Was he annoyed or secretly happy to see Miss Fisher? Was he surprised she didn’t pay him much attention – surprised, or maybe amused? He didn’t sound annoyed. And she did usually pay the inspector quite a lot of attention, often talking almost exclusively to him – this pattern struck Hugh with full force now that he was the one in Miss Fisher’s focus instead. And as pleased as he was that she cared, she was so intense he soon wished she would find something else to think about. 

Dear God, couldn’t she turn to Inspector Robinson instead? He was so much more used to dealing with Miss Fisher. Didn’t she care about his injury?

Hugh decided to pretend to slowly nod off, so he wouldn’t have to be in the centre of Miss Fisher’s gaze anymore. She sat there for a while; then squeezed his hand softly and let go. 

This success was of course also a drawback to Hugh’s sleuthing plans – he could hardly open his eyes again to check what she was doing. He prickled his ears instead to hear if she stayed or went away, and he was sure she went in the direction of the Inspector’s bed. There was a silence before she quietly said “Jack”.

“Miss Fisher,” Hugh heard the Inspector answer blankly. He really was a master of not giving away his feelings when he talked.

“Of all the stupid things to do, Jack…”

“This was nothing compared to what you usually conjure up, Miss Fisher.”

“But I obviously handle it better,” she interrupted. Hugh could hear a smile in her voice, and a huff from his boss, but before Jack could answer she went on: “And it has nothing to do with luck. I have impeccable timing.”

“You do. You are also remarkably adept at turning up places you shouldn’t be.” The inspector’s voice sounded stern now, but Hugh was almost certain it was a mock sternness. 

“There are no places where I shouldn’t be, Jack.” Miss Fisher sounded delighted as she said that.

“No?” Was that a teasing Inspector Robinson he heard? That was not a common occurrence in Hugh’s life, but he was aware that this entity existed.

“No,” answered Miss Fisher. 

Hugh had for some time debated with himself about whether there was something between these two; he wasn’t blind, after all. He had often found himself in awkward positions because of the way they teased each other and worked together and – from time to time – the way they didn’t work together at all, but used Hugh as some kind of middleman. 

But not until now, when he listened to them without being able to use his eyes, did he become certain there was something going on. There was no way two people could sound like this – like they had taken their thoughts and wrapped them up in words that didn’t really mean anything, to hand over to their conversation partner for careful unwrapping – if they were only casual partners. What a fool he was to not have seen it properly before! But there was also something off with that hesitance between them. Was it perhaps even the case that Hugh understood something they didn’t see themselves? 

There was a long silence that Hugh had trouble interpreting, and so he reluctantly opened his eyes again. Miss Fisher stood at the foot of the Inspector’s bed, her hands on the footboard, and it seemed she was just looking at him; from his angle Hugh couldn’t make out much of her expression. She stood there for what felt like ages.

Then she turned her head to Hugh.

“Are you alright, Hugh? Is there anything you need? Are you in pain?” 

He realised that he was, and as he nodded, she went out in search for a nurse for more pain medication.

Jack turned his head and looked appraisingly at Hugh.

“How long is it until Miss Williams will be home again?”

“Six days, sir,” Hugh answered. “Just think that she would accompany Mrs Stanley to Sydney the exact week when I was hurt in the job. She isn’t happy.”

Hugh’s heart swelled when he thought of his fiancée, soft as a lamb and with a heart like a lion, and of how much fuss she would have made around him if she had been in Melbourne. He missed her. Now, as he was condemned to spend his time in a sickbed, it struck him with renewed force how much he missed her and longed for her. The way she looked at him when he managed to surprise her; the way she smiled when he kissed her; the way she always knew what was the best course of action and the way she seemed to mend both clothes and hearts around her. His heart beat faster just from the thought of her. 

“You must miss her,” the Inspector said, more sympathetic than Hugh was prepared for. “That’s the worst thing about hospitals – you have far too much time to think.” 

He sounded as if he spoke from hard-earned experience, and not for the first time it struck Hugh how vast the difference was between them: the Inspector having served in the Great war and seen the battlefields and the hospitals in Europe, while Hugh had only been a child at the time. This was by far the most prolonged contact he had had with a hospital in his life. He imagined it was rather different from the wartime hospitals.

Before he could linger any further on that, Miss Fisher was back. She sat down by his bedside and gave him pills and a glass of water.

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” he said. He swallowed the pills and settled back, and felt scrutinized by her eyes once again. “Um, maybe you should check on the Inspector too?”

“Have you had enough of her already, Collins?” the Inspector asked, and luckily Phryne laughed and didn’t seem to mind Hugh’s deep blush that showed how thoroughly he had been caught out.

“Well, you have no choice then, Inspector,” Miss Fisher said, and with an exaggerated toss of her head she stood up and swaggered over to the Inspector’s bedside, sitting down beside him, and making a show of putting her palm on his forehead. Hugh was almost certain he heard the Inspector draw in his breath. It seemed Miss Fisher stilled, with her hand on his brow and her eyes in his. 

Somehow, Hugh felt like he was trespassing on their privacy. That didn’t make sense as he was the most injured person in the room, but the feeling lingered. He wished he could go out for a while and leave them alone, but that was definitely against the doctor’s orders. Put in the position of the fifth wheel – as so often, but this time without any possible retreat – he missed Dot even more acutely. He missed Dot and the home she was for him, although they hadn’t even created it yet.

Hugh heard Miss Fisher murmur something, and the Inspector answering in a normal conversational tone, “No, Miss Fisher”. 

There was something in the way she sat there, so open to the man in front of her, so intently gazing into his eyes, her hand moving on from his forehead to his shoulder and lightly resting there, that made Hugh feel the tension in the room becoming almost palpable. It struck him that he probably wouldn’t feel more uncomfortable if they started to kiss, since their looks were like a kiss already, only with the eyes, and perhaps even more intense. 

“I need to go,” Miss Fisher finally said to the room at large. Inspector Robinson made a move as if to rise. “Stay,” she said, putting her hand on his chest and pushing him down to the bed. “Next time I come, maybe you’ll be well enough to see me out, Jack.”

She rose from the bedside. “But for you, Hugh, I will give exemption another week.” 

On the doorstep, she turned and threw them a kiss before she disappeared, and all they could hear were her brisk steps going further and further away. 

The rest of the day was dull. Hugh couldn’t really think of something to say to his superior when they were both lying flat on their backs like this. No loose threads of the case were left, the tracking down of the murderer had been the last piece of the puzzle, and neither of them had any news to share since they had the exact same information. 

Hugh became aware of the tediousness of the hospital, how he could tell the progress of the day from the daylight he saw through the window. He guessed he should be happy they had a window. He had so many things he wanted to know, about the war and the hospitals there, about the Inspector’s work before Hugh had come to the station. They normally never had time to just talk, but now that they had, he didn’t know how to pose his questions.

“When were you last in hospital?” he finally asked. “Have you been hurt on the job before?”

Inspector Robinson seemed to think for a moment.

“It was a long time ago. It must have been when I was still just a senior constable,” he answered. “Yes, that must be it. It was a car incident. We were chasing a suspected murderer and I almost wrecked the car. I was so intent on catching him I didn’t look where we were going.”

Hugh knew his surprise was visible from miles away, and his superior continued: “Why do you think I’m so careful? It was only luck that saved me from crashing a car, with both me and Constable Perkins in it.” 

He seemed lost in thought. “It would have been such a waste, after we made it back from the front and all.”

Hugh took the chance at that, and asked the Inspector more about his time in the war. Jack didn’t seem to mind talking about it as much as Hugh had thought, and before they drifted off he had been given enough war stories to disturb his sleep for weeks. 

***

Hugh awoke to a nurse putting a breakfast tray at his bedside. He shook off the last remnants of a dream about trenches and mud, and no matter how boring the tea and toast was, he tucked into it with some eagerness. The same was true for the Inspector, who only grunted a blunt good morning to his fellow invalid before starting to eat. 

Breakfast and painkillers downed, Hugh settled in for another slow day in the bed, feeling warm and itchy under the bandages. Only half an hour later he heard fast footsteps in the corridor outside, and braced himself for a new onslaught of the indomitable Miss Phryne Fisher. _Whatever could he do to deflect her care today?,_ he had time to think before a voice called from the door:

“Hugh Collins! Don’t you ever put me through that again!”

It took him a moment before he realised the voice did not belong to Miss Fisher, but to a flustered-looking Dorothy Williams.

“Dottie! I thought you were in Sydney!” he exclaimed. 

“I couldn’t stay in Sydney knowing you were badly injured, Hugh,” Dot said as she stopped by his bedside to just look at him – mussed hair, bandages, bruises, and all. “Mrs Stanley arranged for me to return immediately.”

A big smile broke out on Hugh’s face and he held out his hand for her.

“Don’t you dare,” she continued. “Don’t you dare!” 

Dot didn’t come closer but just stood there, eyes sparkling, arms tightly held against her body and fists clenched, and Hugh realised she was angry. Angry and scared, and not knowing what to do with herself once she had set foot in the hospital room. Her breathing sped up and she looked like she could choke on herself. 

“Don’t you dare!”

He looked helplessly at her, and she relaxed enough to sit down beside him on the bed and caress his cheek.

“Oh, Hugh!” she whispered finally. “You look like a train has run over you.” 

She bent down to kiss him lightly on his cheek. When she drew back, Hugh caught her and kept her to him, hugging her fiercely, much harder than he should considering his injuries. 

“I missed you Dottie. I missed you so much… When I lay there in the alley, I thought I would never see you again.” He hadn’t noticed it welling up, but realised he was sobbing the last words.

“Oh Hugh,” she said again, kissing him on his mouth, on his eyes, on his nose, and on his mouth again, herself somewhere between laughing and crying. “Don’t cry. I’m here.”

That only made him sob more, and he was immensely grateful that Miss Fisher hadn’t come with her, so he could have a little privacy from those all-knowing eyes.

“Good morning!” a voice sing-songed from the door at the same moment – Miss Fisher, of course, as if conjured up by his thoughts, carrying a basket of what was likely a much better breakfast than the one they had just eaten. She immediately sensed her timing wasn’t as impeccable as she had boasted the day before. She made a grimace and added: “Let me see if I can find some napkins,” and was gone in a whiff.

Hugh and Dot looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Poor Miss Fisher,” a voice said from the other bed and Dot visibly jumped, having completely missed the other occupant of the room when she had hurried to Hugh. “I would venture this is the first time in her life her timing has been even slightly off.” 

“Inspector!” Dot exclaimed, still half-laughing, and he answered: “Sorry to disturb. Don’t mind me.”

“Are you alright, Inspector?” Dot asked, equal parts politeness and concern.

“It’s Collins who took the worst of the attack,” he answered, which made Hugh wince as she turned her worried face back to him.

At that moment, Miss Fisher was back. With napkins in her hand and a determined look on her face she distributed some of Mr Butler’s rich cake before settling down to eat by the Inspector’s side. Hugh took a bite of the cake – which was heaven, especially after that sad breakfast – and then looked at Dot and raised his eyebrow. She first looked quizzically at him, but soon caught up on his meaning. What were they actually doing, those two? The Inspector half sat and took a large bite of the chocolate cake; Miss Fisher smiled and touched the corner of his mouth where some crumbs had stayed. The gesture was so intimate that Dot’s eyes doubled in size before she caught herself and focused on her cake.

Hugh tried to hear what they were saying, in between his own chewing noises.

“Mr Butler sends his regards,” Miss Fisher said in a low but fully discernible voice, “along with his cake.”

“Please thank him from me,” the Inspector retorted, his voice muffled from the cake.

“I will not,” his companion answered, to Hugh’s surprise. And obviously the Inspector’s too, as he arched his eyebrow at her.

“You will have to thank him yourself. He has been very worried" - she looked almost convincing that Mr Butler was the only person she was talking about - "and he won’t believe you are well until he gets to see you eat dinner with his own eyes.”

“So, for Mr Butler’s sake I’m invited to dinner?” Inspector Robinson said and looked pensive. “I guess I might be able to fit that in. To appease him.” He tilted his head as he looked her in the eye. “Will you be present too?”

Hugh actually coughed at that, and three pair of eyes turned to him to see him turn beetroot red. 

Miss Fisher turned back to the Inspector as she stood up and picked up her basket. 

“I will see what I can do. Thursday it is. And don’t meet up with any knife-wielding maniacs before then.”

To Hugh’s relief, as Miss Fisher swept out of the room she didn’t take Dot with her, but promised to send the cabbies for her in an hour. She was gone, and he was finally allowed the sweet dependable kindness of his fiancée, without that assessing look Miss Fisher always had. Or that was what he thought, until he caught Dotties eyes and saw a worrying all-knowing gleam there as she opened her mouth to speak.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Fire_Sign for reading and suggesting improvements!


End file.
